


Less Talks, More Kisses

by pflaume



Category: SEVENTEEN - Fandom
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Inspired by FRIENDS, Kinda, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, i am tired of angst so here's fluff, kidding this has slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-06-26 21:47:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15671943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pflaume/pseuds/pflaume
Summary: Jeonghan watches Seungcheol’s back retreat to his own room before he bolts out of his own apartment and goes knocking at Seungkwan and Jihoon’s apartment two floors above his at 2:17 in the morning.The shorter male welcomes him in his pajamas and plugs his earphones out just as Jeonghan rasps, “I do. Oh god, I do like Seungcheol.”Or where Mingyu needs to learn how to shut the fuck up.





	1. sleepy kisses

**Author's Note:**

> this is the most i've written so far and i'm so sleepy because i finished this just now and it's like 1 am in here. unbeta-ed but will proofread once i get enough sleep to re-read. i apologize for the errors in advance.

 

Probably the most unfortunate thing about being well-liked is that generally, people like you. It's not like he hates it. In fact, he feasts on the power he holds around everyone, telling them to do things and whatnot. Jihoon once called it the “pretty guy privilege” to which he only responded with a shrug.

 

The thing is, he can't draw the line between being well-liked and romantically-liked. It's the kind of dazed awe, you'll-get-what-you-want-if-you-extend-your-lower-lip kind of like the very first time they meet Jeonghan and at times, it's irritating and frustrating especially when it comes to his bestfriend, who, by the way, is not invincible to his charms just like any other human being.

 

So Jeonghan is left staring at the other, mindlessly eating his cereal all the while scrutinizing his every movement. Jeonghan notes how his black fringes fall over his eyes and how it bounces lightly against the morning sunlight seeping in the kitchen. He probably is staring for too long. He doesn't care.

 

“You need a new haircut,” he suddenly says. His eyes intrusively roam along the other’s broad back, unbothered of what the other might think lest he turns around and spots his weird hobby of eyeing him for longer than what’s normal.

 

Maybe it’s because he’s somehow a bit too concerned about every little thing Jeonghan does that he finds him endearing. There’s a smudge of vague lines where Jeonghan can’t procure what he really thinks or would like to think about him. Maybe he really doesn’t like him that way. Maybe he only likes the thought of kissing him.

 

“I'm getting one later,” he says over his shoulder, rubs deep sleepy doe eyes and yawns before turning back to whatever he is cooking: smells like omelet to Jeonghan

 

“You look awful.” Although he doesn't, Jeonghan just likes to spite him or berate the fact that he looks rather unfamiliar (in a very pleasing way) with wild, unruly hair. He won't admit it though, not ever, and the other doesn’t mind him for his sometimes out-of-the-line side comments. They’ve been at it for nine years now, ever since middle school where he hits him square in the face with a volleyball. Good first meeting.

 

“I know.”

 

And, Jeonghan doesn’t like it when he does that.

 

Naturally, they would bicker around and even throw things unceremoniously at each other but there are also times when his best friend just casually agrees to whatever bullshit his mouth says, though unintentionally. It makes him guilty, nonetheless. Like right now, he must have woken up in the wrong side of the bed.

 

He perks up when the other says something again though. “You're helping me choose my clothes today, right?”

 

“What?” Jeonghan mumbles through full mouth, greeted with an expression that he is very acquainted with. Seungcheol sometimes fades to small snores on the couch, a thick ass book planted on his face.

 

Does Jeonghan want to lend him a blanket? Yes.

 

Did he? No.

 

Most of the times, he’ll hum to hiphop songs Jeonghan is now familiar with because he kept his own playlist of them. Seungcheol walks half-asleep around the kitchen every morning and then he will grab his mug, set it on the island, open the fridge, pour whatever content he got from the refrigerator to the waiting porcelain and then dive on it, always forgetting to put it back. All in the right order. Jeonghan knows not because he follows him around with his eyes, but because he’s the one who cleans after him.

 

It’s scary.

 

There's a considerable stretch of comfortable silence while Seungcheol transfers his food from the pan to his plate, set it down across Jeonghan and then sits in front of him before he smilesㅡ all teeth and gums. “I have a date today and you're helping me what to wear.”

 

Oh.

 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes because yes, he hates it. He hates that he goes around dating every single breathing human being he meets. But he doesn't know that and Jeonghan only lets him interprets whatever he can with Jeonghan's expression: distaste, probably. “That's your third this week, Seungcheol.”

 

Seungcheol presses his lips into a straight line and avoids his gaze by prodding a finger into his grilled cheese with sudden interest. It isn’t omelet. And then with a huff, he looks at Jeonghan. “Come on, am I really so bad?”

 

No, Jeonghan wants to say.

 

It's irritating to say the least, that Seungcheol doesn't know how much adoration he gets from other people just because he's bestfriends with Jeonghan.

 

“Come on. You'll help me, right? You're so good with matching your clothes. They always turn out pretty.” There's a hand ruffling the base of his head, playing with the hair on it.

 

Jeonghan pulls away and the other poutsㅡ literally, lower lips protruding like a kicked puppy. He does that every day. He always does that: the fond eyes, the intimate touches, the clingy gestures, the unprecedented compliments: Jeonghan is handsome. Jeonghan is ethereal. Jeonghan is perfect.

 

No. Jeonghan is not anything but angry. Seungcheol is irritating, annoying. He clings to him too much; sometimes gets too close Jeonghan can see the specks of light brown in his eyes. Does he know it gets harder to breath every time he fucking does that?

 

Yes, please, he’d want a hundred miles of space away from him.

 

He doesn't want to bask at the unrealistic thought that his bestfriend might like him, that way. For all he knows, everyone likes himㅡ the general friendly kind of like.

 

“You should go home for Christmas.” And refrain from dating anyone at any given proximity.

 

Seungcheol's eyes droop and then he sighs like a child on tantrum, “Now, you want to shoo me out for the holidays. Geez, you don't have to be so obvious about hating me too.”

 

_I don't._

 

Jeonghan frowns. Why is his bestfriend an idiot? And then he frowns some more when Seungcheol stands up and dumps his unfinished breakfast on the sink. “Alright,” Jeonghan half-shouts in panic, trying his best to hide the alarm in his voice. “I'll help you with your clothes.” He doesn't counter the part where Seungcheol said he hates him, however. That would be a subtle confession.

 

“I knew you would. Also don't forget about the reservation at the restaurant tonight,” Seungcheol lights up instantly which has Jeonghan rolling his eyes at the steering part that had left him breathless: a dizzy feeling at the sight the other's dimples. “He's Chinese, by the way. My date.”

 

He almost chokes. Chinese? He couldn't have chosen someone blond like him? Really?

 

“You know this isn’t your flat Seungcheol.” The feeble attempt hangs pathetic in Jeonghan’s lips. “It’s fucking 8 am, why are you here?”

 

“Really?” The younger wasn’t so ready for Seungcheol to turn around and lean over the counter to shove his face at him. He coughs, rather obnoxiously. “Then why do I know that there, in the second drawer below you, sits my Chemistry notes, which, by the way, you haven’t given back to me yet.”

 

He pushes him away, to signal that the proximity isn’t just allowed, with his spoon pressing against his left cheek before he maneuvers himself to open the second drawer. There, indeed, sits the black notebook. “Why.. is that in there?”

 

“Beat me to it.” Seungcheol shrugs and goes back to his abandoned dishes. “And you’re wearing my shirt.”

 

This is Jeonghan’s shirt, originally, before he gave it to him as a gift.

 

But of course Jeonghan doesn't say that, only watches him wash the dishes for straight twenty minutes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The very first thing that Jeonghan does the moment he enters Jihoon’s flat is stride straight all the way to the big couch, shrugging off Jihoon's and Seungkwan's lingering look at him, and dumps his bag into the messy table top.

 

“What?” he finally asks, while tugging on his ponytail, for he can still feel the unyielding gazes burning holes in the back of his head.

 

Jihoon's lips bloom into a smirk. Jeonghan can literally see how the gears inside the little head of his turn their moving parts. “Seungcheol booked a whole ass arcade place for your birthday.”

 

Jeonghan pulls on his shirt, getting himself a bit comfortable on the furniture, and braces for the impending systematic inquiry his friends are about to throw him into. “Yeah, I kinda had that one coming. I planned for his birthday last August.”

                          

“You gave him a grandiose pool party last August, bourgeois.” Jihoon says exactly when Seungkwan also mumbles a small, “Party of the year,” and he folds his legs in front of himself. "The underlying theme was:  _I Can Be Your Sugardaddy._ "

 

Jeonghan raises a brow. He has mastered this look; the look he gives where he pretends he doesn’t know what his friends are talking about, which could also be valid as the look he uses when he denies he likes his best friend. “And? What am I missing?”

 

“So when is the wedding?”

 

Jeonghan coughs at the ridiculousness of Seungkwan’s question. He sits up rather abruptly from the couch and whacks a throw pillow at the younger— _because they’re not even an item_. Jeonghan really hasn’t seen Seungcheol in that light, too soon. But he’d have already thought that marrying him would be convenient, who doesn’t do that? It’s already the modern time. Some people marry for money. He could just marry his best friend for expediency, nothing more. “You know if you’re gonna stop that, I might just marry him.”

 

“Like you aren’t so willing in the first place.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“Twenty bucks says you will marry him.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Cheol?”

 

“Yeah?” The green highlighter hovers mid-air in his hand as Seungcheol stops what he’s doing to revert his attention back to Jeonghan.

 

Jeonghan stretches like a cat leisurely across Seungcheol’s lap. There’s a sticky note sticking on his forehead that says _‘du ut des’_ and the cartoon show in the muted TV gleams only a part of his highlighted face. Seungcheol’s study lamp hurts his eyes but he doesn’t complain. “Say, have you ever considered marrying for convenience?”

 

Seungcheol puts down his hand on top of his book and Jeonghan side eyes how the ink starts to blot on the paper as the older turns his full gaze on him to snort, “I have an exam tomorrow, Han. What makes you think I’d be pondering on that?”

 

Jeonghan slowly nods, faking discernment and masking the disappointment from the not-so-enthusiastic reply. “Point taken.” He transfers his attention back to Ice Bear staring plaintively from the television. “Go back to highlighting your important parts.”

 

Unsurprisingly, the older has caught up to his sudden sullen mood because who is he kidding? This is Seungcheol. He pulls his blue highlighter from the corner and starts making streaks in Jeonghan’s exposed left cheek.

 

“Hey!” he swats him away.

 

“Just doing what I am told.”

 

Jeonghan isn’t that so disappointed anymore.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“You’re dumb,” is probably the least of everything Jeonghan wants to say at his own end. His finger is poking Seungcheol’s lashes, prodding them back towards his cheek. _They’re soft,_ Jeonghan thought but he ends up with a casual, “You’re dumb” and another “You know you shouldn’t be hurting yourself like this, right?”

 

Seungcheol arrived an hour ago, shoulders slumped and very much tired. What he did first was to toe his shoes off and go straight to Jeonghan, who was mindlessly watching his We Bare Bears marathon when the other arrived. Maybe his date did not go well. _Maybe?_ He did not ask any questions which Seungcheol was thankful for, judging from the placating smile he gave the other.

 

Half an hour in and he’s already snoring on Jeonghan’s lap, dead as if he worked non-stop for three days. He sleeps so peacefully that way, Jeonghan wants to freeze it, not that he won’t want things to advance, if there’s anything to it. The bags under his eyes press against his skin, mouth hanging slightly open. “I think I _really_ like you.” Jeonghan can see the strain in his face and he wants to smooth it for him; wants for him to be the only one who can do that, at least in secret. “You make me want to redo things I’ve never put so much thought about when I get the chance to.” A skip beat. “You know, when I run my hand through your hair like this,” Jeonghan does the gesture, running his fingers through the soft grain of Seungcheol’s hair and feeling the strands between his digits, “I naturally would not mind. But then you’d hum appreciatively as I do so and _god,_ do I not want to stop doing that to you. Or when, you’d beam up at me after you win a game in your silly computer, I would have just rolled my eyes at you but have you seen how you light up? Oh, this is Seungkwan’s fault!” The blond sulks, biting his lower lip in an attempt to not frown at the wall. “If he hasn’t so pointedly noticed--” And then Jeonghan stops to clear his throat and makes his best for an impression of Seungkwan’s voice. _“You really have cute dimples, hyung.”_ Admittedly, Jeonghan thinks he does.

 

He has never seen exhaustion this beautiful. And for the first time he admits, _that_. “God, you’re awful at this.” He shakes his head, looks around the apartment and then sighs, “I’m awful at this.”

 

But Seungcheol stirs in his lap and Jeonghan freezes; almost wants to take back everything he said. There could be such a possibility that he heard him and there’s no guarantee that the confrontation will be easy. The dread drops, awful, as he watches him sit up with his hair sticking all in different directions. Seungcheol squints at him and Jeonghan is left with his words hanging in his mouth, searing. Right now, he just wants to look at him.

 

Seungcheol’s face inches close and Jeonghan is sure the hold he has on the edge of the couch will be leaving dents but he can’t move, nor can he utter something out of his sweaty palms and heavy silence seeping in the inches between their faces.

 

Another shift of proximity had Jeonghan suddenly saying, “Cheol, this is too close.” Suddenly, Seungcheol was everywhere, evading his very senses. It’s too much for Jeonghan all at once. His eyes were a silent sign of plead and haze, Jeonghan wonders if Seungcheol feels the same way he did; the way his brown orbs reflect from under the low light of the living room. For once, he wants to believe it is that way.

 

Out of the blue, Seungcheol just presses his lips against his, softly and without any sign of pressure; just a light brush of sweet flesh against his own. He sat there, unmoving; not ever knowing what to do.

 

And the kiss ends as fast as it came.

 

Jeonghan watches Seungcheol’s back retreat to his own room before he bolts out of his own apartment and goes knocking against Seungkwan and Jihoon’s apartment two floors above his at 2:17 in the morning.

 

The shorter male welcomes him in his pajamas and plugs his earphones out just as Jeonghan rasps, “I do. Oh god, I do _like_ Seungcheol.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The first time Seungcheol kissed Jeonghan, the latter strode to a stranger in his kitchen. Maybe visiting Seungcheol this early to apologize why he did not spend the night in his own fucking apartment and had a little sleepover at Jihoon’s instead is a bad idea. Maybe Jeonghan’s just too anxious but as he inches closer and stares harder at the back of the stranger daintily sat on the stool of _Seungcheol’s_ kitchen island, the stronger is his urge to bolt out of the apartment and never show his face to him again.

 

But he remained calm because he’s Jeonghan, isn’t he?

 

“Hey,” he offers, through his croaked voice and ripping dry lips, casing the taste of Seungcheol’s lower ones in his dreams last night.

 

The stranger whirls, almost languidly fluid, around and Jeonghan is met with rimmed glasses and a restrained smile. _Oh, he’s pretty._ He pushes away the urge to pick on his hair and at least swipe it clean, whilst the stranger looks so neat in his blue cardigan and white tee. “You must be Jeonghan,” the stranger offers and there’s some sort of recognition in the back of his eyes that Jeonghan noticed. “Seungcheol has talked a lot about you.”

 

 _“Where is Seungcheol?”_  is what he meant to say but what happened last night has prevented him to ask so he settled with a small, “Good things, I presume?” to show casualty and nonchalance; to pull up the façade or at least hide that he’s not ready if the door across the room opens up to Seungcheol’s face. He might just run (to his arms or away from him, he just does not know).

 

The stranger only nods and as Jeonghan climbs on the stool across him. The itch has crawled up to his face. He wants to ask what is his significance to Seungcheol, why in heavens must he be at the wrong place in the most wrong timing.

 

This must have bothered the other because the eerie silence has broken when he clears his throat to say, “I’m Wonwoo.” Wonwoo eyes how hard is Jeonghan gripping the edge of the island and he did not care to hide the intrusion when he lifted his eyes to him, as if propping a silent challenge. “I just realized I did not introduce myself; just in case, I’ll be around here for a long time.”

 

By then, the door swings open to a neatly dressed Seungcheol and just as Jeonghan stands, to leave the suffocating pressure around the room albeit his knees almost buckle, he gives Seungcheol a last look. “You told me he’s Chinese. He’s fucking Korean, Cheol.”

 

He does not know why must he feel the need to be so clammy. He’s Yoon fucking Jeonghan and he doesn’t need any of this mess.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Cheol? Would you want to help me get grocery tonight?”

 

“Oh, I’m kinda busy, you know. About _things_.”

 

Wonwoo makes an appearance in the doorway of Seungcheol’s room.

 

“Nevermind, I got it.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jeonghan appears on Seungkwan and Jihoon’s doorstep all wet and snotty, hands clamming for support in the door frame as shivers run up his body and sobs wracked through his chest.

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Jihoon takes the pity first and welcomes him with a fuzzy bath, soft linens and pajamas. The shorter male made sure to give Jeonghan a mug of tea and some hot packs to go with his very splotchy cheeks and nose.

 

“I mean, he would still come and pick me up even though it was storming!” Jeonghan whines, dramatically throwing his whole upper body back towards the couch, dragging the heavy duvets with him. A loud thunder cackles just as Jeonghan wails at the two, sync and in timing. “Ever since, that—that Wonwoo guy came in the picture, it was like I was shoved into second place, you know?”

 

“He’s really a villain, isn’t he?” Seungkwan retorts beside Jihoon, finding Jeonghan’s little tantrum a bit overbearing. His innocent pajamas had to sacrifice for his friend’s antics. “The last time I saw him act like this was when Beth dies in ‘Little Women’ and that one time Seungcheol decided he did not want to attend the prom.”

 

“It was Theodore Finch in ‘All The Bright Places.’ Let’s just wait for the storm to die down.”

 

Seungkwan doesn’t know if Jihoon meant the actual storm or Jeonghan. Nevertheless, he could have his fun.

 

Jeonghan has decided to steal Seungkwan’s roommate away from him and now he’s clinging unto Jihoon like his life depended on it; the younger really not having a choice but to welcome his _hyung_ inside his arms. No one could say no to pretty Jeonghan.

 

“Hey, Han hyung?”

 

“Yeah?” he blows to the tissue, wiping tears and snot away in his very swollen— _from dramatically crying—_ face.

 

“I just realized maybe you’re not Seungcheol hyung’s favorite anymore.”

 

“Boo Seungkwan that is so not helping!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Drunk Jeonghan is pliant Jeonghan.

 

“Come on.” There’s laughing. “This isn’t so hard. Look.” More giggles he doesn’t know where came from.

 

“Stop,” he shouts, popping the last letter in his lips; more of a playful whine hidden behind his mirth. Jeonghan likes to say he isn’t that buzzed. The amount of alcohol that he has taken since earlier the night doesn’t really make a cut on his tolerance but the blinding lights of green, blue and red hues have started to run a beat late and he admits he might have bitten more than what he can chew.

 

But Seungcheol, _oh Seungcheol (that he’s sure this is Seungcheol)_ has already pulled him on the game platform and has started to slowly tap his feet accordingly to the guided arrows. “Just this once, Jeonghan!” Drunk blush imminent on his high cheeks contrasts the pale face and his raven hair tousled in a gorgeous mess, he starts to jump wildly along the beat, hyping Jeonghan with him.

 

“I am going to swing if you won’t stop this right now.” The younger throws his head back, in an attempt to whack a loud laugh because the older just looks really ridiculous trying to teach him this game and if he uses the gesture to hide the growing fond smile, Seungcheol doesn’t have to know.

 

Of course, Jeonghan relents when, albeit his drunkenness, he feels Seungcheol’s hand links around his. The protests eventually die down and his feet starts to hit the rhythm. Jeonghan just might be too sober for the sweat that has started to build up between their linked hands (a gesture that isn’t so unfamiliar since they’ve done things so much already; why is he blanching?) so before Seungkwan can make his way to the other side of the room, he makes a grab of whatever is in his glass. Seungcheol hoots when he clobbers the drink down his throat in one go and he starts to dance.

 

Tap, tap, tap, tap. Jeonghan doesn’t know what he’s doing. Not when Seuncheol makes occasional grabs for his hips when they needed to switch places or laughs so brightly, when Jeonghan slurs a bad step and lands on his chest instead.

 

Drunk Seungcheol is dense Seungcheol, naïve Seungcheol, annoying Seungcheol.

 

He just wanted to play this goddamn game without the repercussions of his thoughts that he might just be too in love with Seungcheol; too hung up even when the man has no intentions more than being just.. bestfriends. Maybe he could, at least, stop this once, turn back and say it wasn’t so bad for a first heartbreak but Seungcheol’s laugh has been enough to latch around him all throughout those years and he doesn’t think he could survive a day, without it.

 

Or maybe Jeonghan is just scared; a roaring fear of rejection. All his life he’s been well-liked and for someone—the only one that he _wants_ —to not reciprocate his projection is somehow _new._

 

He’s lying to himself. Seungcheol, who has been twirling him around in his arms with his drunken stupor and all carelessness, his vodka-induced breathy laughter permeating through the air of sweaty bodies, and his outlandish jumping on the arrows of red and blue _(he’s really so good at dance revo when sober, Jeonghan admits),_ is a knife that has cut through Jeonghan silently. And he just doesn’t want to know how deep the man has cut in.. if ever he pulls away.

 

The large monitor pings to a “Good job!” although it displays the letter C and this excites the younger, letting himself bask in his bad decisions that night and just get away with the excuse of immaturity and light-headedness. Seungcheol has already pulled him closer, hands grasping both of Jeonghan’s cheeks in the excitement and if not for the fact that he’s out-of-his-wits drunk right now, he might have enjoyed _this._ “I did it, Cheollie!” he slurs, words tumbling out in an orderly fashion along with his alcohol giggles. “I did that!”

 

“You did,” Seuncheol’s baritone voice is an octave lower, like he was hit with a sudden sobriety, but this doesn’t move Jeonghan. If more, he has stopped giggling to realize how close he was already to him. The machine started to irk them with its relentless notice that the player should choose a song now.

 

And then the fancy music or the crowd hum drowns in his ears, when one of them—Jeonghan doesn’t know who—leans in and claims the other’s mouth in his. His lips feel soft, just as Jeonghan remembered, although now it comes with a sharp taste of vodka and salt, but just as _good_ and _enticing._ He wants to dart his tongue out to pry Seungcheol’s mouth open but the kiss he’s rendering borders on nice and homey, the kind of soft suckle on his lower lip and slight groan in the other’s throat.

 

Seungcheol abruptly pulls away, just as Jeonghan starts to run his hands through his raven hair, to the sound of Wonwoo’s voice behind them.

 

Jeonghan pretends it doesn’t matter.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Although it does. Because love is a thing that kills. It stabs right through and pulls open a gaping hole that you’re now obliged to fill and to hide for everybody not to see. For all he knows, he could just pretend this whole fiasco did not happen. Seungcheol did not kiss him—twice. Alcohol is to blame.

 

But Jeonghan is Jeonghan and his momma did not raise a quitter.

 

So looking at a meter distance away from Wonwoo and Seungcheol talking so _intimately_ together in the corner of the basket ring game, about something he’s probably not allowed to know, he’s starting to think if his momma ever raised him right because Jeonghan just slacks and decides he’ll quit Seungcheol. The neon lights spark up Seungcheol’s face and if the nerd gives him so much joy, then he’ll quit him.

 

Like his bad habit of biting his nails, when Seungcheol tells him not to.

 

“Happy birthday, Han!” Someone says from behind yet he remains rooted to his spot, unmoving, as if Seungcheol also snatched away his whole energy when he pulled away from that kiss. There’s a shot of vodka held out to him.

 

 _“Happy fucking birthday, Han,”_ he says to himself before his feet leads himself towards the two. Suddenly finding a pull of courage from the liquor he just drowned.

 

This is gravity, he says to himself, pulling him towards the young man; not bad decisions; not sleepy and drunken kisses and totally not phony nonchalance. This is Jeonghan bringing himself up to Seungcheol, who he had yanked away from Wonwoo and dragged out the building and into the Seoul night to say, “Choi Seungcheol, you know what?”

 

“Han? You’re drunk—“

 

“I don’t care if I’m drunk! I am over you,” he hollers, bitter laugh echoing back all over the dark and deserted alley. He blanches upon hearing his own voice. “Over! Totally over! You think you could get me with your boyish smiles and your pretty gestures?” A mocking _tch!_ sound comes out his mouth. “Guess what asshole! You did, hah! But now?” Jeonghan’s vision starts to twirl and he makes a little _‘woah’_ when he sways in his own two feet, muddled head finding amusement at his own clumsiness.

 

He could not focus on Seungcheol anymore, to be very fucking honest. He isn’t even sure if this is Seungcheol he’s talking to. Jeonghan hasn’t received a response ever since he started babbling whatever his drunken state has told him to. He thinks this will be his greatest regret if he gets to remember after a bad hangover because by now he could feel bile rise up his throat as he continues, “I am over you—all of that! This? This is closure.”

 

Then he throws up the contents of his empty stomach to the nearest object he can double over, who, unfortunately, is Seungcheol.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“It’s time for the yearly gift opening ceremony!” Hansol hollers from the floor of Minghao and Chan’s living room. The apartment gave the quite dainty vibe, not you’d think two college students are living in and yet although it still has the aftermath of Jeonghan’s birthday wishes, unused red cups by the lamp stand and a couple of party hats strewn all over the floor, it still gives him enough peace that he needs.

 

Jeonghan doesn’t quite remember how has he gotten in their apartment building safe, much less the consequences of his actions.. _was it last night? How many hours have he slept?_ It was a total blackout. Vodka isn’t such a pal, if you ask him. There’s just too much banging going on inside his head to be even level-headed after that amount of drunk pass-out. Totally nothing after the _dance revo_ with Seungcheol.

 

He coddles on the cozy seat, eye-hogging the amount of gifts on the coffee table. And if he’s anxious that his bestfriend, his own bestfriend, is nowhere to be found in their yearly ceremony (at least in their friend group), he hides it behind a satisfied mewl upon the sight of the familiar branded paper bags. “This feels like a baby shower.” When Junhui and Joshua gapes up at him from their designated position in front of the huge television, he clarifies, “Me. I’m the baby.”

 

Seungkwan has made his way into the couch across Jeonghan, sipping lazily at a mug which he doesn’t know the content of. “Are you really sure you’re okay, hyung? You look like shit. You’ve slept for two days.”

 

“Wow, thanks for that. Just let me open my gifts in peace so I can go back to sleep. What should I open first? The biggest?”

 

“Oh right,” Soonyoung has followed Seungkwan, making his presence known by brandishing a couple of thick papers from below the coffee table. He still has glitter on his face and no one seems neat enough to care about it. “You should see mine first because here.” And proceeds to shove the pieces of papers under Jeonghan’s nose.

 

Jeonghan eyes it at first. “These are coupons.”

 

“Yep!” He doggedly nods. Jeonghan can see the imaginary puppy ears perking up.

 

“In an art store,” Chan helpfully provides.

 

“Yep!”

 

“Soonyoung, in what reality do I get to shop in an art store?”

 

“What?!” Said male throws himself over to Joshua and Junhui which earns him a groan from the two. “It’s the thought that counts. Besides, you look like an art student.”

 

“Soonie, sweetie,” Junhui coos and Soonyoung immediately softens, curls on his lap like the big puppy that he is, or so he likes to dream. “That still does not make sense.”

 

“You’re such a dumbass,” Dokyeom emerges the third, probably just to chide Soonyoung and Jeonghan starts to wonder why do these dorks come out from the random corners of the apartment. The man also has glitter in his face. _What are they doing in the kitchen?_ “ _Hyung_ , I got you your favorite socks!”

 

“Ah, you’re so thoughtful Dokyeom. But you beat yourself to it and now it won’t surprise me anymore.”

 

“Who’s a dumbass now?” A pillow lands on Dokyeom’s face.

 

“Okay, shut it. I’m gonna open this.” Jeonghan sticks his hand into the pile of gifts and pulls out a small blue box that doesn’t have any card on it. He eyes everyone first, still steering at the gnawing fact of someone’s unexplainable absence, “If this is a piece of egg, you crackheads, I won’t hesitate,” before he tears open the box to show everyone its content.

 

The collective gasps cut through the groggy morning stupor of everyone in the apartment. Junhui has stopped playing with the remote of the TV. Even Jihoon has walked up from the stool to settle himself on one of the couches to take a good look at the gift. Seungkwan’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out.

 

No one says a thing for a minute or two until Mingyu appears by the corner, still in his apron and strikingly smelling like thirty percent beer and seventy percent instant ramen. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. Oh,“ The popular canines also make their appearance when he dunks himself in between Minghao and Chan. “Oh, he came through! My boy came through!”

 

Joshua asks, “What do you mean _‘your boy’_?” Jeonghan remains silent and he _oh-so_ carefully lifts up the necklace from its box.

 

“That’s from Seungcheol hyung.” By this time Mingyu is already so ecstatic, bouncing on the balls of his feet as if he’s the one who received the gift.

 

“Oh, he remembers.” Recognition rolls in just as Jeonghan openly gawks at the pendant. Something tugs in the deepest part of his being at the sight of the jewelry. He totally does not deserve this. The question is just as evident in everyone’s faces and Jeonghan releases a soft huff under his breath. “Okay so, before the holiday rolled in, we were walking down the mall—you know that one where every shopper looks like they’re big shots, yeah?”

 

“Yeah, cause you two like hanging out where we, lowly people, can’t afford,” Minghao remarks.

 

“We don’t,” Jeonghan whips his head to the man and glares at him playfully. “We just know how to save. Anyway, we went there to have coffee after the grueling exams and then we happen to pass by this—“ A _moan_ , “really gorgeous necklace. And I remembered ogling at it before walking it off. I did not know he noticed that.”

 

“I’d like to have a bestfriend like Seungcheol, please.” Probably Soonyoung.

 

“Okay but the real question is, how much does that cost?” _Of course, it had to be Seungkwan._

 

“Oh! Really expensive. Seuncheol hyung got a call from his dad the other day, asking about the unusual purchase in his credit card activity.” Mingyu still has this big goofy smile painted in his face.

 

“Aw, he’s thoughtful.”

 

“You know Seungcheol hyung gives it out when he’s in love.” That’s when Mingyu starts to yap, unfiltered words tumbling out his mouth before his brain can even register them. Everyone has stilled at the first sentence already but the man doesn’t seem to notice just as he continues, “Do you remember that girlfriend he had in high school? He bought her a ridiculously expensive hair clip, which really looks tacky and funny as for me. So when he, _hah_ , showed me this last week.” His signature _‘hehehehe’_ reverberates in the astonishingly quiet living area. “I told him he should just save the expensive gifts for when he’s gonna propose.”

 

Slowly, Jeonghan tilts his body towards the man. _Slowly, because he’s gonna fucking break._ “Mingyu, what did you just say?”

 

“That he showed me this necklace last week?”

 

“No, before that.”

 

“The hairclip he bought looks funny?”

 

A patient heavy breath tremors through his hammering chest. “Mingyu.”

 

“That he’s in— _oh no_ , he did not come through, didn’t he?” Mingyu realizes his mistake and proceeds to stuff his mouth with his whole fist. “Oh no, I am so fucked.”

 

“Seungcheol is in love with me..?”

 

“Kinda since, like, years ago, _oh no_ , you did not hear that from me!”

 

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

 

“Because it wasn’t for me to say!”

 

“That’s funny coming from you!” Jeonghan grits, dusty light pink coming up his cheeks from his neck, and he makes for a bolt towards the door. Though his head aches in every places that he moves, Jeonghan runs because he needs to kiss Seungcheol, right fucking now. This doesn’t surprise the whole bunch seemingly as they have been witnesses of the two’s constant pining to each other, for god knows how long already.

 

There’s an impish smile in Mingyu’s lips as he says, “Well that was memorable.”

 

What does surprise them is Jeonghan coming back, breathless, three minutes after, without Seungcheol in tow. The defeat resigns in the back of his eyes as he grabs on Mingyu’s apron and hauls him upright, “Where is he?”

 

“Oh, he’s in Daegu. He’ll be back after the holidays.”

 

 

* * *

 


	2. sober talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of Jeonghan grabbing Seungcheol's whole ass cheek, I come bearing a gift. Just kidding, this wip has been seated in my folder for too long and I promised an update after a week upon publishing this but I didn't come through. I am in a block and tried writing this one out. 
> 
> P.S. This is long ;;-;; and Seungcheol-centered (poor Seungcheol pining in almost 6000 words)
> 
> I'm sorry I'm so bad at fluff especially in endings.

Seungcheol really does not need Mingyu patting him on his chest by the foyer of their shared apartment and telling him to, “Just go, my man.”

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Seungcheol corrects, voice tilting into a sterner command which Mingyu immediately recognizes as he nods and restates himself to a soft “—hyung.”

 

Because he might be a bit confused.

 

They said it’s really not a wise choice to listen to the Psychology student Mingyu, his roommate who once cried when Seungcheol told him Seungkwan would have made a better roommate as he would actually wash his own dishes and attend to his own laundry. It took him a couple of dollars to appease the younger, big bright canines showing when Seungcheol promised him free movie tickets and a coupon to some department store.

 

But the guy already opened his mouth and Seungcheol can’t be more confused. “You’re actually afraid of intimacy,” Mingyu has said and then proceeded with a, “You take people’s affection as a joke so you won’t come off too easy."

 

Seungcheol vaguely recollects giving Mingyu a glare that night before going back to his videogame with a small “Fuck off, Gyu.”

 

Seungcheol shifts his balance in between his feet and straightens to finally confront the younger, who by the way is way taller than him; one would think this looks funny, visually, but this is Seungcheol and everyone in the apartment building probably avoids getting into his nerves—except of course, Jeonghan and Jisoo, who had made it their life goal to annoy Seungcheol. “Why do you badly want me to do that?” The bag of bread and cheese in his hands somehow compliments his gray sweatpants and his awful, messy hair.

 

“Because,” Mingyu only laughs a small _‘hehehe’_ , before he starts to shove Seungcheol out of their apartment again in the early hour of 7 am, “it’s the right thing to do!”

 

“It isn’t,” Seungcheol sighs, exhaustion finally catching up to him after his late night date with his laptop and papers. He just really needs his grilled cheese, a favorite, for today morning and Mingyu decides it’s a good day to pester him again with his insistent pep talks that do nothing but make Seungcheol want to hide behind their couch all day.

 

“Then, _uh_ ,” Mingyu blocks his attempt to enter their apartment again; really having no choice as how Mingyu sizes over him considerably. “Then why does it look so right when he’s in here and I see the both of you together! _Ah_ ,” he coos once again and Seungcheol takes a step back to rethink if his roommate may have some problems with his maturity—he’s a big puppy, “my parents!”

 

“Mingyu, I just don’t want to over complicate things.”

 

“And what?” The younger grabs him by the shoulders and at the same time squeezes them as if to pass some kind of energy for Seungcheol to man up and just say: Hey, I’ve been in love with you for god-knows-how-long already. Mingyu ducks a little—offensive—to look at him in the eyes and seriously says, “You’re just gonna have to suppress all these... _uh_ ,” searches for the right words, “feelings for him?”

 

“I don’t think this is a big news for you but, surprise, that’s what I’ve been doing since the past four years.” Seungcheol has finally resigned, arms slacking from the weight of the bread and cheese in his hands and he makes a turn toward the kitchen when Mingyu seizes him again by the shoulder.

 

“ _Hyung_!” The younger’s nostrils flare open and Seungcheol sees the familiar determination in his eyes like that time he started an overdue project that would make or break his Humanities mark. Seungcheol had to stay up with Mingyu that night, pushing in cups of coffee every time the younger nods off to slumber. “So you’re just gonna watch him marry another man that is not you?”

 

“Not if I get married first.”

 

“ _Hyung_!”

 

“Mingyu, listen to me. Jeonghan is…” Seungcheol huffs and readies himself first for what he’s about to say because this is it; he’s really gonna admit this, right out of his own mouth. He makes a roll of his eyes at the younger who looks like he’s the one pained in their arrangement, “Jeonghan is Jeonghan, you know. He’s up there and I’m rock bottom.”

 

“No, no, no, no, no,” Mingyu chants wildly, face contorting in disarray of confusion. He makes his way toward Seungcheol and if the older doesn’t know that this man could not even hurt a fly, he might have run away at how fast his limbs have taken him towards Seungcheol—this giant.

 

“—he has dated these really gorgeous guys—that jock, the model, the one from US, yeah? I.. just don’t think I’m worth the shot.”

 

“ _Hyung_ , what the hell, that girl in the photocopy downstairs eyefucks you every time she gets the chance to,” Mingyu remarks, canines showing as he shoves Seungcheol again, thinking what he just said helped. It probably did but Seungcheol just wants for Mingyu to just stop. The constant pining can only get so exhausting.

 

“Mingyu, I don’t swing that way; at least, not anymore.”

 

“I would have dated you if you were a couple of years younger!”

 

Seungcheol squints his eyes at the younger, who goes immediately pink-- the tinge dusting on his naturally tan face gorgeously—before barking into a loud laugh and doubling over to hold the bag of bread against his aching stomach as he wheezes. Mingyu is already pouting at him by the time he stops laughing. “Nice try, Gyu,” Seungcheol pants, wiping the corner of his eyes, “Now, let me go make my grilled cheese.”

 

“No.” Seungcheol is back to square one, being shoved off of his own apartment unceremoniously. “You can go tell him you have a date, uh, again. ( _‘That does not really work. Jeonghan isn’t the jealous type.’_ ) Or you can go make Jeonghan _hyung_ some breakfast—he’s probably still asleep by now. You know _Pavlov_ ’s classical conditioning? You can also make your grilled cheese in there!”

 

“Jeonghan is not a dog, Mingyu. Besides, I have a perfectly functioning kitchen in here.”

 

Mingyu suddenly just claps and then makes finger guns at Seungcheol. “Now you don’t! I just broke the electric stove.”

 

“That doesn’t work that way, kid.”

 

“It also would not work with Jeonghan hyung if you won’t try.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Should we just stop?” Jeonghan softly asks, his fist moving up and down with intent. Seungcheol produces a paper against his stone. He groans before he crouches down into a ball and Seungcheol jumps over him with a laugh. The younger jokes about how the pavement shakes when Seungcheol landed on his two feet and albeit the sun beats down hard on them, Seungcheol makes an additional effort to go back two steps just so he could flick Jeonghan's forehead.

 

He snorts when the other winces in pain and then goes right back to moving his fist up and down. “What do you mean stop? Minhyuk spent months on you. You can't just stop.” Seungcheol wins again with rock against Jeonghan's scissors and then with a chuckle, he hides the slight frown in his face with a, “You're so bad at this.”

 

“I don't know,” Jeonghan looks at Seungcheol with a small whine lingering in the back of the last word before he goes back crouching, only a bit higher than earlier. “It doesn't feel right to me.” The next sentence was a tad bit fainterㅡ not at all deliberate; as if Jeonghan have just reminded himself to put the blame on the man. “You were the one who suggested I should date him.”

 

Seungcheol almost lets Jeonghan slice through the crack of his armor but he doesn't. Instead he readies himself with a small huff and as he jumps over the younger, he announces, “Han, everyone knows you like him.. since we were, what?” Seungcheol turns around and produces a smile at younger, “Freshmen?”

 

Jeonghan gets up and stretches, lifting a finger up at Seungcheol with an accusatory gaze. “I thought,” he corrects, or so he wants to sound like, to which Seungcheol laughs at. “And now I realized, I don't like him. Not _that_ way.”

 

The older purses his lips, looks past Jeonghan's shoulder. There are still considerable minutes to walk so they could arrive at the building where the Theater was located and they could have arrived fifteen minutes earlier hadn't Jeonghan suggested they play rock, paper, scissors. ( _'I'm not trying to stall my practice. Also, I'm not running late. I don't have any excuses, Cheol. I'm just bored.'_ )

 

The older squints and then suddenly sticks his hand out just as fast as Jeonghan did with his. He wins for the nth time with paper against rock and Seungcheol might have laughed, if not for the slight ache in his face; doesn't know if he was smiling just too much or the sun has burned his face into a permanent awkward grin. He doesn't really care at this point. “You know, you could make your own decisions without taking mine into account, right?”

 

Seungcheol makes deliberate steps back as Jeonghan bends on his waist before the younger threatens, “Cheol, I know you're athletic and all but if you fucking kill me with this jump, I will come back to life just to kill you.”

 

“And they all lived happily ever after?” The said man jokes, before he dashes into a run towards Jeonghan.

 

He falters the last second, though, when Jeonghan responded with an, “Of course I need your input, you're my _best_ _friend_ ,” for his last statement earlier. He hits the younger squarely in the hips and both of them reduces into a pile on the lush green grass of the field. ( _'Fuck you, Choi!'_ )

 

The obligatory awkward laugh comes out of Seungcheol first, with Jeonghan groaning and pushing him off of him, and if it was only possible, Seungcheol would not want to get up from his position now; just let the sun and rain pour down on him until he grows roots of his own and become a part of the soil. He's just so.. tired.

 

But the dull silence from the younger has bothered him enough to open his eyes and squint at the sun.. or Jeonghan, who was silently staring at him with an expression that reminds Seungcheol of when the angel's asleep; solace. "What?" he asks, seemingly out of words.

 

Jeonghan releases a breath, "Yeah, I'll break the news to Minhyuk tonight."

 

"News?"

 

"That we're better off as friends."

 

"But you haven't heard my input yet."

 

Jeonghan sits up, gives Seungcheol that smile that he so despises and at the same time adores, "You just did."

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Seungcheol wonders how many fries would it take for Jeonghan to finally stop throwing them at him. He is certainly not looking at his grease-covered lipsㅡ thinking about swiping his lower lip with his thumb? Nope. “So your date stood up on you?” Jeonghan asks and Seungcheol thinks the inquiry should have hurt but the sting doesn't register; only what bothers him is the fact that his date did not stand him up. Not really, no. He was the one who stood up on him, upon Jeonghan's call to hang out.

 

“Yeah,” he says instead, feigning dejection to cover up his lie.

 

Only Jeonghan laughs, mocking. Seungcheol frowns because albeit the sweat that drips down Jeonghan's temples down to his cheeks (the air conditioner inside the diner is broken again but that's okay because this is Jeonghan's favorite diner and they make the town's best waffles) and the grease that almost coats all over his lips, he still looks like.. that. Seungcheol doesn't think, doesn't hyper fixate because this is Jeonghan. Not as surprising; Jeonghan, who bagged the Prince Charming alias in the drama club the moment he set foot on it. That's only because he wore gray contact lenses all the time and made people believe they're his natural color. But Seungcheol supposes even his hazy brown eyes would still bag him the same alias. That's just him.

 

“You gotta stop laughing,” he quips when Jeonghan refuses to stop giggling as if his supposed to be misfortune is something to laugh at.

 

“It’s okay,” Jeonghan leans in across the table, finally deciding to normally much on the fries as he stares down at Seungcheol with a kind of determination in his eyes. “You can hold my hand and pretend I’m your date for tonight. I could walk you home and you can give me a good night kiss.”

 

Seungcheol’s lips stretches into a smile that hurts. He wishes he doesn’t look ridiculous right now with how much his jaw slacked before they gripped up to procure a slight grin. There’s a momentary halt to the conversation (Jeonghan is still suggestively waggling his eyebrows at him) as Seungcheol pulls his elbows away from the table to shift his attention to the familiar waitress so he can place an order and not think of anything; everything but pretend dating.

 

“Hey!” Jeonghan splutters at the lack of response from the other, his cheeks tinting into a very obvious sign of embarrassment and betrayal.

 

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, not really that used to deprive the younger of anything. He makes a small order of coffee, knowing that Jeonghan’s playful offer earlier would make a better job at keeping him up than that of a cup of coffee. It was out of the line, with how Seungcheol wishes it to be true, but he supposes Jeonghan could dangle the same in his own face and he still would not notice how Seungcheol is holding back.

 

“Jeonghan,” the waitress suddenly perks up and Seungcheol silently thanks her for the necessary distraction. “You can’t be just holing up all these pretty guys. You were just with Minhyuk in here last week.”

 

But now Seungcheol isn’t that so thankful for the unwanted information. Perhaps everything has their own downside and right now, Seungcheol wonders if Jeonghan ever has one. He can’t think of anything as of the moment but he wishes he can, maybe someday. The look on the younger’s face is skeptical as he snorts and pats Seungcheol gingerly on the chest, “No can do, Les,” and then a small grin, “You can go for Minhyuk now. Cheol is all mine.”

 

The waitress only giggles, leaving the both of them with their order in tow.

 

“Han,” Seungcheol sighs, “that’s not helping.” The question (something that involves Jeonghan’s past lover) that has come up a minute earlier stops on the tip of his tongue and never made its way out.

 

Jeonghan mutters a small, “You’re no fun,” before he breaches the small space between them and asks, “You really like that guy, huh?”

 

It was uncharacteristically Jeonghan. Seungcheol looks up from his Economics notebook, slightly frazzled at how he worded his question: soft, like he was guarding something Seungcheol wasn’t allowed to breach. He wasn’t looking at him, only making circles with his fries on the dip. The older wonders what the other was thinking but he answers a placid, “I guess,” nonetheless.

 

He isn’t so bad at lying after all.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“Do you think I'd get that gig?” Jeonghan is slumped lazily in his passenger seat, silently humming to _‘cause I love the way your green eyes mix with that Malibu indigo’_ ; his feet are placed on the dashboard, no matter how many times Seungcheol has told him that this habit is annoying. ( _‘You really can't say no to me. You're a pushover.’ Seungcheol makes a face, ‘Try me.’, ‘You love me.’, ‘I don't, really. Stop doing that.’_ )

 

Seungcheol momentarily places his gaze on Jeonghan and without missing a beat he answers, “Of course.” The sincerity that laces Seungcheol's words has Jeonghan squinting at him. He snorts, “Yeah really, I do think so. It's not like there were other people better than you during the audition,” because he might have brushed lies over his passivity but once Jeonghan demands answers, he could not really say no.

 

The air is incorporeal in Seoul afternoon but the theatricality of how it hits Jeonghan's face, along with the casted yellow glow of the sunset from behind him renders Seungcheol defenseless. He could feel the drip of his sweat down his tank top and the roar of his own heart muffled by the soft rumble of his truck.

 

Maybe even if stuck into the ugliest of places, Seungcheol would still find bits of Jeonghan attractive; like how he winks with both of his eyes closed and how he'd defend it as his own brand. It probably is Jeonghan's brand. There are pieces of little things that he hates, even if the general people like themㅡ raisins hidden inside baked goods; raw food that people deem edible. Unsurprisingly, Seungcheol knows all of them.

 

Falling in love with Yoon Jeonghan was anticlimactic, especially because it wasn’t Seungcheol’s idea in the first place. It was Junhui who pointed it out for him after the man caught him sneaking out of his own class and into the university’s theater, which, by the way, is three buildings away from his own.

 

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” There’s a hint of playfulness to Junhui’s voice when he asked.

 

Seungcheol brushed it away as a simple question in an effort to keep his attention to Jeonghan who was playing the piano on the stage. “Yeah,” he answers uninterested, intently wishing for Junhui to pick the fact up that he isn’t so enthused to start a small talk.

 

Seungcheol knows it was inevitable; what he did not know is that he only needed the slight push. “So what are you still doing here, Seungcheol?”

 

The said man peels his gaze away from what has got his attention earlier to frown at Junhui, “What do you mean?”

 

“You know what I mean.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

“So what you’re saying is that he’s been in love with him for years already and he hasn’t man up to it yet?” Much to Seungcheol’s annoyance, Mingyu was able to conjure another audience with him in the form of a lanky, tall man with gold-rimmed glasses and sharp features that every modelling agency would kill to have, named Wonwoo. The visitor has arrived with his luggage when Seungcheol was sulking on their couch, being appeased by a highly overactive Mingyu.

 

“Please stop,” the oldest nods his head on top of the kitchen table. He’s burrito-ed inside his favorite blanket with a mug of hot chocolate in his hands, courtesy of his ever so loving roommate who made sure he had grilled cheese for breakfast. “Aren’t you two supposed to be touring around the city? Wonwoo should see the fair downtown.”

 

“No, actually this is more interesting. So what’re you looking so dead for?”

 

He did not stay over the night in Jeonghan’s apartment. He couldn’t have, hearing the door slam shut a couple of seconds after what his blind leap caused. Jeonghan’s lips felt so right against his and he was too groggy to even notice he was actually kissing him. But by now that he thinks about it, it does not sit so right with Seungcheol. He was more than ready to bare it all, to apologize and to give the big talk, to just drop everything and say ‘yeah, I’m kinda in love with you’ but Jeonghan hasn’t come back, even thirty minutes after.

 

“He kissed him yesterday! My boy got moves after all, Wonwoo.” Mingyu squeaks, mouth full of ramen noodles he was so intent on fitting inside his mouth.

 

“ _Hyung_.” Seungcheol corrects for the nth time.

 

“My _hyung_ , I mean.”

 

Wonwoo stills, hand freezing mid-grab Mingyu’s chopsticks and he whispers lowly, “Oh, no.”

 

“Yep, oh no,” The oldest throws his hands up in the air. “That is what I have been telling this idiot since four a.m.”

 

Mingyu’s brows connect together to a frown, one could really think he’s really thinking that hard but his processes might have already stopped the moment he got his first sip of his instant ramen. “What? What am I missing?”

 

“I kissed him and he bolted out of his apartment like that, you ignorant fool. What the fuck do you think that meant? Oh god. I fucked up.”

 

“This needs an intervention,” Wonwoo pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, the gesture Seungcheol sees in anime when the protagonist finally conjures their brilliant plan. This is not going well, he decides. “Go get dressed, Seungcheol hyung.”

 

“What for?”

 

“We’re going to the fair.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

A tone rings across the room rendering Seungcheol immediately into full attention as he sits immediately right up. The book planted on his face earlier pathetically flings off and into his lap.

 

The male knows fully well it is Jeonghan, with what it’s the seventh ring of his phone in a span of fifteen minutes. The younger can only get so persistent when it comes to him only because he knows Seungcheol will cave in.

 

Seungcheol tries his best to ignore the call, actually ending up in more pathetic ways like humming to a song slightly louder than the ringtone. He’s childish like that. Until he gives up and lifts his gaze up to Wonwoo, who’s silently reading a book by the windowsill.

 

“No,” the other has said, as if sensing the rise of tension and impatience from Seungcheol without even twitching a muscle more than a lift of his own glasses up his nose bridge. He sighs, puts his book (‘The Moon that Embraces the Sun’) down and Seungcheol voluntarily subscribes for another lecture by throwing himself back into the comforts of the couch.

 

“What if it’s an emergency?” The raven tries to bargain but also knowing fully well that Wonwoo isn’t a pushover, his voice has died to a minimum helpless squeak.

 

“ _Hyung_ ,” Wonwoo tilts his body towards the couch where Seungcheol is cooped up in his large shirt and navy blue shorts. “If you want this plan to work out then you gotta stick to it. It’ll be just a couple of days. We just need to make him realize what he’s missing out on.”

 

“This isn’t even my plan. It’s your plan with Mingyu,” Seungcheol sulks, dry bitterness evident in the slight clench of his fists as he tangles his arms around him in a makeshift hug. He throws his gaze to the open windows where Wonwoo resumes his silent reading; his moody retort has gone unnoticed, washed away along with the transparent raindrops making their way down the window glass and melted along the cold weather of the afternoon. He wonders what Jeonghan must be needing him for right now, until a sullen idea waltz itself into his consciousness, without any precedent, and before he knows it, he already has opened his mouth, “What if he doesn’t, Woo?”

 

“Doesn’t what?”

 

“Realize,” Seungcheol stills for a whole minute before he continues. “I know this is only pushing him away. What if he doesn’t pull back?”

 

“Then, that’s your answer.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

  
The door opens to a groggy looking Seungkwan clad in his yellow pajamas that have SpongeBob prints all over them. Seungcheol lets out a breath of relief (that turned out to be futile) and sucks it back right in after Seungkwan calls for Jihoon despite Seungcheol's _‘No please, don't!’_.

 

Now he's infront of both Seungkwan and Jihoon and albeit Jihoon looks so soft in his sky blue pajamas printed with cute clouds, bare face marred with little sleep and hair sticking out in different directions, the sharp glare doesn't fail to penetrate Seungcheol's forehead as if he could be shot any second now.

 

“You better have a damn good reason, Seungcheol.” The smaller's voice doesn't fall short on dangerous, with how one of his feet is stepped out in front of him, limbs conjoining together in his chest in an aggressive stance.

 

“And I better be wearing these pajamas for something. God, Jeonghan hyung can overexert sometimes,” Seungkwan adds with a yawn before he swivels on his heels to leave the both of them in the foyer.

 

Seungcheol looks around, guilty, because he doesn't have any reasons. _‘Wonwoo did not let me’_ sounds dumb even only if recited in his head so he sighs and says, “I don't and I'm sorry.”

 

“If the apology doesn’t reach Jeonghan then it’s invalid to me. He arrived dripping in front of my door,” Jihoon deadpans. Seungcheol might just want to bolt right out the corridor and back into his apartment room but he doesn't. He chooses to slide his foot in between the door and its frame just in case Jihoon shuts the door in his face. “You couldn't have chosen another day to be an asshole and decided to ditch him on the day of his piano recital?”

 

“I know that was a _dick_ move but I did not have a choice.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at the onslaught of a whine in Seungcheol’s voice as if the big oaf could bribe himself the way inside. “Hoon, I owe you one but please let me see Jeonghan, just today.”

 

Seungcheol only had the courage to disturb Jihoon this late because he knows the younger could really not resist him (tried and tested for many times already though he won’t admit he’s been abusing this power) so when Jihoon says, “I want a double mushroom burger and coke, by the way,” Seungcheol is already halfway through his apartment, immediately spotting the lump of flesh on the rather spacious couch. Only Jihoon and Seungkwan would spend so much on a couch.

 

The raven has waited for Jihoon to disappear to his own room before he throws his own bag on the floor and makes his best to squeeze himself between Jeonghan and the couch. “I know you’re not sleeping.”

 

The calm has permeated in the apartment; lasted for three minutes as it swirls along with the soft snores from the younger before he shifts in the littlest of movement and then whispers to Seungcheol, “Hold me.”

 

“Holding you,” Seungcheol replies with his dry throat, slowly tangling his limbs around the boy who only snuggles even closer to the older as if seeking for his own warmth. This is how it ends, he thinks. With their bodies next to each other, he silently prays Jeonghan wouldn’t notice how hard his heart is hammering against his chest or if he does, he hopes he doesn’t voice it out and just plainly mistake it for nerves. “You really need to stop being clingy like this.”

 

Jeonghan doesn’t reply for the next minutes after he mumbles a small “This is nice” and Seungcheol has thought he had fallen asleep. But now the intrusive thoughts have breached with how Jeonghan’s nose is pressed to his neck and his hands against his chest; how warm he is beside him and how he realized all that he is, is all that he ever needs.

 

Seungcheol badly wants to be loved.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Drunk Seungcheol is vulnerable Seungcheol.

 

And under the lowlights of the arcade place he has rented, drunk Jeonghan is attractive Jeonghan. Maybe this is one of the most stupid choices he’s had done all his life but if it meant hearing the other’s careless laugh as their bodies hit squarely against each other in a drunken mess of trying to catch the beat of the music beating dully in the back of Seungcheol’s head then by all means, he could let Jeonghan laugh his way through all Seungcheol’s bad decisions.

 

There isn’t no turning back, Seungcheol says to himself. That if the sole focus of his erratic heartbeats ( _‘slow down,’_ he commands) meant something, it would be Jeonghan.

 

Sometimes he wonders what happens to people who has never taken anyone for granted; the ones who knew what they’re putting themselves into and how much they are willing to lose. Given, the passive ones get the “you’ll never really realize how much you need someone until they’re gone” but what about those people who knew from the start? What about Seungcheol?

 

“Good job!” the machine pings, dull and lifeless in contrast to Jeonghan’s “I did it, Cheollie!” His face naturally glows into a childlike mirth; the only vulnerable state Seungcheol gets to see when he’s drunk.

 

Sometimes he wonders how much was he willing to lose. “You did,” Seungcheol breathes, courage breaching in a roar of sudden outburst through his chest when he realizes (with how Jeonghan was pressed against him, drunk and pliant) that everything—Seungcheol is ready to lose every fucking thing as he dips down to catch Jeonghan’s mouth in his.

 

There’s so much history in Seungcheol’s head when he tastes the soft, plush lips: years and years of denial and suppression; people he’s had to let go for someone who doesn’t even look his way; warmth that promised nothing more than familiarity when Seungcheol wanted more; a smile that did not ever promise stability, a stark and constant reminder how Seungcheol was just pushing his luck with this kiss.

 

But then this was also his only way; a silent “set me free” from all the repercussions he’s had received. Seungcheol could only stretch that far; he was starting to fade out. This was his confrontation; with how determined he presses himself against the warm body in front of him as if there’s a secret shared between them.

 

And should this be the last thing he could do, he knows that it’s enough for himself.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
_“Choi Seungcheol, you know what?”_

 

_“Han? You’re drunk—“_

 

_“I don’t care if I’m drunk! I am over you. Over! Totally over! You think you could get me with your boyish smiles and your pretty gestures? Guess what asshole! You did, hah! But now? I am over you—all of that! This? This is closure.”_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Joshua, jesus fuck, what happened to you?”

 

“Jeonghan threw up on me and I’ll have you know that this is your fault.”

 

“What-? Why me?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m guessing Mingyu told you I’m in Daegu.” Seungcheol really hasn’t expected to see Jeonghan crouching in front of his apartment at 2:18 pm in his party clothes. The blond has immediately responded to the familiar voice of the older, snapping his head up from its position earlier. There are tears casing the pretty face; a big pout marring his soft lips. And Seungcheol got questions he should not ask so instead, he settles with, “What happened?”

 

It took a frown and then a squint from the younger before he accusingly murmurs in a very soft voice, “You didn’t tell me you were in love with me.”

 

It should have taken Seungcheol aback but with how he woke up this morning with Wonwoo telling him “You should tell him today or you’ll never get a chance again” he decides maybe the confrontation presented itself to him. Maybe the universe wanted him to take this chance. He takes small steps toward Jeonghan until he’s in front of him and then smiles, “I’m guessing Mingyu told you that too.”

 

“It doesn’t matter who told—“

 

“Maybe,” Seungcheol admits with a small shrug, looking everywhere but at the male crouching in front of him. The box of beer he bought earlier for the group slacks in his hand and it’s not until now that he understands loving can get hard and it can hurt; that investing pieces of you to other people isn’t really that worth the pain. “Maybe I’m in love with you,” he huffs and then momentarily closes his eyes, “Inches of you, Han.”

 

Jeonghan doesn’t say a thing, only waiting for Seungcheol to continue. This time Seungcheol lets words bleed. “I’m in love with how you smile with all your teeth but not at who’s it for. Maybe I’m in love with your soft touches but not at how they’re intertwined with someone else’s. Maybe I’ve waited for too long but ironically, I’m in love with how much you’re a mystery; just maybe not with how you’ve lead people on. I guess that includes me.” Seungcheol crouches down until they’re face to face and holds Jeonghan’s gaze as he says, “I’m in love with you but not with the fact that you aren’t mine to begin with.”

 

Jeonghan has clearly withered in his stance and Seungcheol takes the slowly sinking possibility that he’ll probably lose this game when the younger answers, “Why didn’t you tell me? We’ve been friends for almost a decade, Cheol.” He reminds himself it’ll be too cold outside if ever he decides to take himself for a pity walk. Maybe tomorrow.

 

“Do I really need words, Jeonghan?” He smiles although he really doesn’t feel like doing it but he does as if this is his final stretch for Jeonghan. “I’ve been beside you all the time. I held you in my arms when you were crying for another. I smiled with you. Hell, even cried. And you never noticed? Wouldn’t it more sound pathetic to ask you to give me love every time I wake up alone?”

 

“Seungcheol—“

 

“Don’t worry,” There's a hand ruffling the base of Jeonghan’s head, playing with the hair on it, and there’s Seungcheol’s smile given toward him. “It’s not your fault your eyes haven’t known me yet when I have clearly fallen for yours.” And then as if nothing happened, the older stands up and with a grin, he says, “You waited for me to come home? Let’s go. I got beer for the others.”

 

“That’s it?” The twist in Jeonghan’s face throws Seungcheol off and he tries his best to recall which part did he omit that he deserved a slightly raging Jeonghan hitting him in the chest. “That’s just it?” The younger hits him again and this time he steps back because he clearly doesn’t deserve a broken heart and a sore chest.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“You’re not going to hear my side? You’re not going to hear how you remind me of when we stole kisses from each other.. in my apartment? in the arcade? You hold me down, Seungcheol. Sometimes you look at me as if it’s normal to have me pressed against you while we watch the moon turn into the morning light but then I see you look at Seungkwan and Soonyoung with the same warm eyes and it’s back to square one. You smoothly throw your head back and laugh like a little kid with some joke I made but then you also easily gave away such mirth with Dokyeom’s antics. I watched you burn into me and I see fire but then after that, I also watched you turn cold easily within flick of fingers. It wasn’t easy,” Jeonghan shakes his head in an effort to hide the small tears that have made their way back to his cheeks. Seungcheol has stood frozen in front of him, not knowing what to do. “To finally have someone but it sucks because albeit everyone likes you, the one you only want doesn’t. Now I don’t know what to do.”

 

“I really wouldn’t have bothered,” The smile has finally bloomed in Seungcheol’s face. His arms are trembling and at the same time he wants to hold Jeonghan the way he did that night; wants to put his open lips to his and slowly let them take their own breath away. Slowly and in his own pace, he picks up the pieces. “For starters? This,” and then he pulls Jeonghan by the hem of his shirt and finally with all his sobriety, surrenders up his heart with a kiss.

 

The younger yelps, laughs into the kiss at first before he decides to just let himself be taken away; lazily moves his own against Seungcheol’s when the older chooses it’s a good idea to have him pressed against the door scandalously. They’re going to be kicked out in this building.

 

“I love you.”

 

"Hm, I love you better now."

 

 

* * *

 

 

_"Kim Mingyu, you can come out now."_

 

_"I'm so sorry, Seungcheol hyung!"_

 

_"Fucking finally."_

 

_"Shut up, Won."_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P. S. I originally meant to have a small justification of Wonwoo's character (I hope you all get how his character was relevant in the story) but this has gone too long (I'm afraid it'll bore you out) but I'll have you know that he's now dating Kim Mingyu.
> 
> Find me on twitter and let's capital T with jeongcheol together, ily guys.

**Author's Note:**

> I will explain everything in second chapter (Seungcheol's POV), ok? So I promise I will not abandon this fic. WIll be updated at earliest within the week. Thanks for reading!


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